Abby

Abby was our Belgian Shepherd. We had her euthanized a couple weeks ago. She was 13, going on 14, a long life for a big dog. We put it off as long as we could, but in the end, she just could not get around well, move without pain, walk without her back legs collapsing. She retired herself from active-duty, as one might call it, about 2-3 years ago when Lucy got old enough to carry on. She spent most of the time since then enjoying well-deserved days of alternately laying in her dog house or laying in the sun. And up to the end, she was still the undisputed alpha dog. She snapped, Lucy rolled over.

We found her at a Humane Society "Puppy Day" in Lexington, Kentucky. She was sitting in the back of a dog crate with her back to the crowd. No one was paying much attention to her, probably because at 3 months she was already pretty large at 40-50 pounds. Mindy asked to see her and when the gentleman pulled her out of the crate and turned around with her, it was like looking at the face of a bear cub. It turned out that the guy had been fostering her and was able to give us details on her quiet temperament and friendly nature. We were not looking for another dog, but we ended up taking her home with us. It was one of our best decisions. She was a tremendous dog. A lean 110-120 pounds in her prime. Instinctively knew property borders, obedient, patient with kids and protective. She took on a small pack of coyotes one night in Kentucky. Jet-black, she was almost impossible to see in the dark and on a moonless night, they never saw her coming until she hit them. We did not see the coyotes back after that. Sales people, missionaries, strangers - she would hold them in the driveway until we got there or they backed up and out. She was an imposing dog. Despite this conversation many times - "Does she bite?" "Sometimes." - she never actually bit anyone. She just looked like she wanted to. She did crush at least half a dozen door knobs with her jaws and chewed thru one or two interior doors when she decided she wanted out. At 7 and again at 9, she had knee surgery to repair torn cruciate ligaments in her knees but she bounced back fast after both. She was active and healthy for most of her life.

But in the end, it was time to face facts. The pain was bad, her hips and back legs were failing her. The drive to getup and run down to the barn was there, but the body could not do it. She could drag her legs down the slight slope, but had to stop every few feet going back to the house. We put it off as long as we could, hoping she'd either get better as the weather turned or she'd pass peacefully in her sleep, but it became apparent it was not kind to wait any longer. Through 3 states and 6 houses, she was a fixture who never seemed rattled by the changes. I know she was a dog, but it's not easy to lose a friend and companion that's been with you for that long. Oddly enough, I feel much better that she did not die at night in her sleep. The vet gave her a shot that put her to sleep, then stopped her heart. It makes me feel better to remember that the last thing she saw and felt and smelled before she peacefully drifted off was me holding her.